


The Eagle has Landed

by sushicorps (Inclinant)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Crack, Earth AU, F/M, Fluff, Human AU, Humour, Lead up to Kylux, M/M, Modern AU, Multi, President AU, Romance, Stormpilot, The Republic is a Fictional Country, White House, White House AU, meet cute, of sorts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-19 04:00:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5952877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inclinant/pseuds/sushicorps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Poe Dameron has totally<em> not</em> just hired someone to be Personal Aide to the President because he’s hot.<br/>...Okay, Poe Dameron has totally just hired someone to be Personal Aide to the President because he’s hot.</p><p>Fuck.</p><p>Also it would be<em> great</em> if everyone stops bringing up that one pin-up calendar he did back in his Air Force days.</p><p>(Meanwhile, Secret Service Agent Hux is this close to strangling Kylo Re- <em>no, Ben Solo -</em> if he has to sit through one more of his shitty emo band practices again, President’s son be <em>damned.</em>)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Eagle has Landed

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by The West Wing.  
> Modern White House AU.

 

Poe has only just taken his seat in his office when Jess pokes her head through the door.

“The President wants you in her office.”

“...’ _Good Morning’_ is usually how most people greet each other,” He says, groaning into his palms as he drags them over his face. It’s six in the morning two months into this position and he still doesn’t think he’s cut out for this.

At all.

“The President wants you in her office,” Jess repeats again as she enters, completely without mercy.

“You know,” Poe says mournfully as he stares down at the papers on his desk. It’s making a sort of mountain range, black files topped off with white caps of loose papers.

“I used to just be a pilot.”

“Best pilot in the airforce _, yes,_ everyone knows, Poe,” Jess replies as she continues piling the rest of the new reports on his table, “Until everyone realised your charming good looks were much better placed heading campaign releases-”

“I actually did graduate magna cum laude from the New Republic University, not that anyone seems to remember...” Poe mutters, eyeing the growing stack on his desk with a sinking heart.

His secretary unceremoniously dumps the last file on his table, then grabs the cup of Starbucks she had put down and whirls on her heels in the terrifying way that she does.

“ _Hey_ , I thought that was for me!”

“No chance of that, Poe.”

“Why are you my secretary again?” Poe sighs, grabbing his mug from the desk while ruefully watching BB-8 load all the new emails and message. It’s a hundred and eight notifications and climbing.

“You know what?” Jess pauses by the door, a certain light in her eyes and Poe curses under his breath because whatever’s coming is never going to be good.

“I actually have that calendar the Air Force released a couple of years back, their...fighter pilot special, was it?”

She winks and Poe freezes, the images of the orange jumpsuit tied around his waist while he hangs, half naked, off the side of his black X-Wing, sweating from the scorching desert sun even though there’s a big hulking fan on set there to tousle his hair to the side in an oh-so-natural way immediately popping into his head-

 _“Jessika Pava, don’t you-_ ”

“Maybe we should talk about that raise again, hm?”

* * *

Han Solo is in the Oval Office.

Not a good sign.

Poe just nods at the Secret Service agent as he slips in and hovers at the back, behind all the other majors and government officials, twiddling his thumbs a bit.

“Let me get this straight - we have intelligence that suggests Snoke may be using the new mines in the contested Outer Regions to cover up the construction of this Starkiller weapon, the Coruscant Governor has been covering up a massive chemical spill into the Dagobah marshes, agricultural productivity in the Lothal belt has been at its lowest in decades, my son has started an emo band called Kylo Ren or something while my renegade husband has finally returned from sailing the Millennium Falcon around the world.”

The President says it all in one breath - Poe’s very impressed - and then levels her steely gaze in Han’s direction.

“Leia-” Han starts in a way that would send most women swooning in seconds (and makes Poe’s knees go a bit weak for a bit) but Leia just shakes her head at him.

“ _Don’t_ start. And _don’t_ do anything.”

“I’m not doing anything!”

“Keep doing that,” Leia rounds the table and then waves her hand at the room and the reports on her desk and everyone else. She looks tired, the office already taking a toll on her, but there’s still the firm aura of quiet determination and solid authority that fits around her shoulders like a snug cape. And somehow, it makes it seem like everything will be alright - because even if it’s not, they’ve tried their best and that is all that matters at the end of the day.

Poe had felt it the moment he had first met Leia Organa, then Governor of Alderaan, on the runway of the D’Qar air base. He had felt it in her gaze, then sat down to listen to her and left to follow on her campaign and the rest was history.

“Least you’re better than Luke,” Leia sighs, propping her arms up on her hips and shaking her head a little. “I don’t even know which deserted island he has decided to run off to now and the Skywalker University board has been trying to contact me non-stop about their missing Provost…”

She pauses to frown at the newest file on her table, then throws her arms up in exasperation.

“And _what_ does the First Order destroying the Hosnian System’s market share have to do with this office?”

There is a very audible halting intake of breath that follows the President’s questions and the officers around the room just stare at each other for a bit, before Caluan Ematt (Chief of Staff and also Poe’s boss) soundly jabs the Secretary of State and pushes him forward.

“Well…” The man clears his throat. “Unfortunately, Madam, Hosnia claims that the First Order is violating employee rights in its Stormtrooper factories, hence breaking the bilateral free trade deal we negotiated - they’re pushing to extend tariffs over all First Order operations in Hosnia, threatening to bring this to the WTO if we don’t do something about it.”

Leia pulls a face. “We can’t let them do that. They’re just trying to protect their state-owned enterprises!"

“And we’ve been negotiating the tariffs for exports of mining and oil industries for ages,” She picks up the report to get a better look, “letting them extend tariffs over one company might end up with Hosnia voiding the entire clause we put in in the first place.”

“By the Force, why did it have to be the First Order though? I hate having to protect those bastards.”

“As do we, Madam President,” Korr Sella agrees and Poe finds himself nodding sympathetically. The First Order was probably the epitome of Wall Street big business bulldogs that only care about the dark side of money - heck, their Starkiller banking operations had been the primary trigger for the global economic crash a couple of years back. There was little love for them, especially here at Leia's office.

“Whatever you do, settle it,” Leia finishes and turns away to her secretary as the rest of the staff begins to shuffle out.

“I have already arranged a meeting with the Hosnian Ambassador for you at 3pm. Would you like me to run through your schedule for today with you now?”

“That’s great, Threepio, just...where’s Dameron?”

“Uh, here, Madam,” Poe pushes himself up from the wall he’d been leaning on, raising a hand to catch Leia’s attention amidst the slowly streaming crowd out from her office..

“I really need a new personal aide,” Leia starts and Poe can’t help but feel a vindictive rush of triumph.

“Yes, thank you! I’ve said that Threepio is-” He freezes, suddenly becoming very aware that the scarily lanky man is looming just behind him, clearly listening to  “-Should be uh, put to uh, uh-”’

Threepio clears his throat loudly.

“With all due respect, Madam President, I have been telling you that I am perfectly capable of handling the roles of your personal aide and secretary at the same time. Who else would have such an in-depth knowledge of proper protocol, such as the White House work attire code-”

Threepio glares evilly at the untucked back of Poe’s shirt and huffs indignantly before turning back to the President.  
  
“-and proper address and handshake procedures? Especially with regards to liaisons with foreign dignitaries-”

There’s an amused twinkle in President Organa’s eyes. “Yes I know, Threepio. And I appreciate it.”

“But ever since R2 resigned to work for Luke full-time, it’s obvious you have your hands full.” She continues.  “You’re not a robot, Threepio-”

“But Madam President!”

“That’s enough, I’m not taking no for an answer. Dameron!” Leia turns back to him and Poe just barely stops himself from snapping to attention on instinct.

“How fast can you find me a new personal aide?”

Poe slips a grin on his face and throws up a salute. “Consider it done, Madam President.”

“Oh stop it with the salutes, you,” Leia rolls her eyes a little, but there’s a hint of fondness in her voice and Poe can’t help but preen a bit internally - he is her favourite, after all.

Ha.

“I’ll have your new bodyman in your office by the end of today!” He adds, then his brain pauses to register what his mouth has just let slip and the regret hits him instantly.

Leia looks particularly amused right now as she takes her place at the President’s desk.

“I’ll be holding you to that then.”

* * *

“I’m doomed Jess,” Poe sighs dramatically as he drags a chair over to collapse into as he throws himself over his secretary’s desk. Jess pauses in her typing, slams her laptop shut and leans back and crosses her legs all in a single smooth motion.

“Continue,” She says graciously, gesturing benignly like a particularly magnanimous being.

“Where do I spirit a young man or woman - fit, healthy, pleasant, decent looking, firm and assertive in character when necessary, skilled enough to fade into the background yet appear when needed from?”

“Well…” Jess starts, slowly edging out her laptop away from him.

 “You could break into a Stormtrooper factory. Heard the First Order workers are practically like robots, what with their creepy semi-dictatorial work regime. How do they even get away with it? I thought we outlawed sweatshops years ago.”

“Until big corporations stop owning this country, I doubt so,” Poe mumbles out a reply from where his face is buried in his arms.

“Well, you’ve already sent out the job posting emails so…”

He pouts, then gives a huge sigh and pushes himself up from the desk.

“I guess all that’s left is to wait and hope I will still have my job at the end of the day.”

He walks over to his office, opens the door, blinks once and then shuts it. Opening it again, he just stares at the figure of the Secret Service agent still there lounging on his chair (and legs propped up exceptionally rudely on his desk, mind you) and shuts the door once more.

Turning straight on his heels, Poe makes a beeline back for his secretary’s desk.

“Why is Brendol Hux in my office?”

Jess doesn’t even spare him a look from her typing. “I have no idea.”

“ _Jess_.”

“By the way,” She leans over to grab a file that she brandishes triumphantly in the air. “Your job just might be saved - Prindel just sent a guy up for you to vet, he’s in the meeting room.”

Poe snatches the file from her hands, flipping through it frantically, relieved. “Oh thank god, _yes_ , let’s do that.”

“And get Hux out of my office,” He adds as he starts down the hallway, jabbing a thumb at his office door furiously as he passes.

Jess pulls a face as she glances at the door and back. “The man’s already _seen_ you, Poe, what am I going to say?”

“That I had to go to the dentist. That I fell down and broke my ankle. That I suddenly got food poisoning over lunch and had to be sent to a hospital...at the other end of the state, no, make that the country-”

“That I suddenly got attacked by pigeons... I don’t know, think of something!” He finishes with a shrug, then continues escaping down the corridor.

“Give me that raise!”

* * *

“So I hope you understand why we have to do this background vetting, it’s a very sensitive job-” Poe breezes into the meeting room with all the light-hearted joy of having avoided a perilous meeting, turns around and then just freezes as the man stands up to meet him.

Holy kriffin’ hell fuck he’s hot.

Wait what.

“Uh,” He coughs, cursing the utter failure of the Dameron chill that shuts down whenever he needs it most - why he’s deputy chief of staff and not press secretary, really.

That and the fact too many journalists seemed to be far more interested in sleeping with him than actual White House press releases.

“Please take a seat.”

Poe himself sits down a bit too heavily in his seat, shuffling through the files he’s got from Jess to at least pretend to busy himself with something so he’ll _stop staring._

“You’re Poe Dameron,” The man says, eyes wide and incredulous. Poe can’t help but give him a small smile at that, but he shifts in his seat to settle back to try to at least possess some measure of the famous Dameron chill (no, he’s not showing off. At all. Shut up, conscience.)

He moves to stick out a hand like every proper government official should and clears his throat, all prim and proper and stuffs.

“Ah, yes, I am the Deputy Chief of Staff, Poe Dameron-”

“No, no, I mean, Poe Dameron, the fighter pilot - best pilot in the Resistance Squadron right? I have your calendar at home,” The man says in a rush, his eyes lighting up.

The fucking calendar. Again.

Poe wants to bang his head against the desk right now. “If I hire you right now, will you promise to burn that calendar?”

“Uh-”

“Right so, sorry about that, very flattering y’know to know you have my calendar...” - the fucking calendar that has a June spread of him in nothing except his helmet in between his legs. Oh god, Poe wants to find a hole and crawl into it right now... or at least fling himself into hyperspace. NASA really needs to work on that space programme to Mars pronto because Poe’s going to be the first to sign the fuck up.

He peels open the file.

“So Finn...Dameron.”

He blinks, once, twice, but there it still is, in blatant black on white, _‘Dameron_ ’ and Poe looks up at Finn because everything is kind of bordering on surreal right about now.

Finn coughs guiltily into his sleeve.  “Yeah, ‘bout that, I can explain really, I mean-”

He waves wildly at the file, self-conscious look on his face, but it’s all kind of dorkly endearing. ( _Poe to brain: what.)_

“Look, I dunno, it’s kind of written into my personal history thingy there on the form? But I’m an orphan yeah? They never really gave me a name, I mean yeah sure, they called me Finn, but I knew I was just a number on their form - FN-2187. So when I could change my name I... uh, still called myself Finn but I wanted to pick my own family name, y’know, and there was this...uh...air force pilot that I really admired...I’m sorry, I think I”ll just be going now-”

 _Holy fuck he has my name, we’re practically like married -_ is actually what’s still going through Poe’s mind on a loop all through Finn’s explanation and then he realises that Finn had sprung to his feet and has begun edging towards the door.

“No wait, stop, it’s okay, it’s totally legal for us to have the same last name-”

Nothing he’s saying is making sense now but Poe is kind of focused on reaching the door before Finn, which he somehow manages to does so. He slides in between the other man and the door, effectively slamming it shut, except he’s now realising as he turns back to Finn that they are  so close he can feel the other’s sharp breath on his lips. Finn just stares at him, wide-eyed and frozen in place while Poe doesn’t have any clue where to put his hands and is kind of scrabbling at the door - thank the Force the meeting room doesn’t have any windows because he is never going to live this down in his office.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” Finn quickly backpedals, flushing a little and Poe thinks he needs to send a White House memo to NASA soon.

He takes a deep breath.

“Let’s restart this interview, shall we?”

They both resettle into their seats and Poe spreads the forms out on the table before him, scanning through the details of Finn’s applications. Looking through his resume and personal history, he can see why Prindel had sent Finn up. The man had a history of service sector jobs, working multiple at a time and even worked for a Stormtrooper factory before applying here, meaning he was no stranger to tough, hard work. Also, he had solid references from his supervisors at the places he volunteered at, working at dog shelters and counselling centres for at-risk youth and orphanages.

Besides, it would be a terrific story for the press too - Pamich would love this (and maybe it’ll get the Chief of Communications off his back for once too).

He closes the file and looks up to see Finn who’s sitting ramrod straight in his chair, biting on his lower lip a little.

“Who’s the current president of the Republic?”

Finn stares at him.

“Uh...President Organa?”

“Yes, and have you ever conspired to overthrow the government of the Republic?”

“No?”

“Have you ever conspired to carry out an act of terror here or abroad?”

“I’m not sure where this is goin-”

Poe leans forward and laces his fingers together on the table, voice serious now.

“I’m not going to gloss over the details, Finn - it’s hard job, thankless job. Long hours. Sometimes you can only go back in the wee hours and need to come back in less than three hours. You’ve got to always be on your toes, always ready to go at a moment’s notice, be constantly aware of everything related to the President at all times.  You’ve got to be able to blend into the background, but have a firm hand when dealing with whoever the President meets - and sometimes, this may be presidents and kings…”

“Mr Dameron, uh, sir?” Finn shakes his head, confused. “I uh, I was looking for a job as a cleaner? Or in the mailroom, if there’s no vacancies in Janitorial-”

“Okay so Finn, _buddy_ , you see, we’re looking for a bodyman- uh, that’s a Personal Aide, by the way, for the President.”

Finn frowns.“I...I just wanted a job as a cleaner or a messenger, really, I-”

“That’s actually a better job, you know.”

“I don’t understand.”

Poe takes a deep breath and then gestures to the application forms scattered over the table.

“Finn, look, you’ve got a great scores, great work history, great references… I mean, yeah, so do lots of the other candidates we’ve seen, but I believe in you... wait , no, we, we believe in you. Of course, the final decision is in the President’s hand so I can’t guarantee anything right now, but I’ll introduce you to her and see how things go from there.”

“...Personal Aide to the President?”

“What do you think of that?” Poe really hopes his voice isn’t coming across as too hopeful. Finn opens his mouth to say something, then closes it as he seems to reconsider.

“...Okay. I’ll try.”

“Great!” Poe shoots up from the chair, gathering all the papers in one fell swoop. “I’ll just send your paperwork to be processed and…”

He’s out of his chair and halfway to the door when he swivels back to look up and down Finn in as neutral a gaze as he can. “Do you have a jacket?”

Finn runs his hands down his white shirt and trousers in a way that isn’t really helping Poe at all and shakes his head. “I didn’t know I needed one-”

“It’s cool! You can take mine - I've a spare in my office,” so he says, but Poe is already stripping halfway out of his jacket before he realises, then thinks what the hell and pulls it over a startled Finn's shoulders.

“It suits you," Poe grins and then flees.

 

* * *

 

_“This is Finn,” Poe bursts into the Oval Office with a broad grin that slowly slips off his face as Leia just gives Finn a slow look over and then levels him a long, knowing look._

_“Thank you, Poe. So...Finn, come in,” Leia beckons and nods at Poe in thanks but here’s a slight curve to the edge of her lips as she turns away. Poe just smiles weakly back and turns to shut the door, groaning as he knocks his forehead against the nearest wall._

_He's doomed._

 

* * *

 Jess intercepts him at the lunch queue, takes one look at him and goes, “Okay, I didn’t get a good look but how hot was the new guy.”

“How do you _do_ that,” Poe looks down and the roll from his tray is gone too.

“Well, you’re not wearing your jacket anymore. Incidentally, it was your favourite jacket, so I’m only left to assume you two shacked up in the meeting room, which by the way, ugh, never stepping in there again and did he really sleep with you for a _job_ man that’s one hell of a job application-”

“Pava, I’m shocked, are you suggesting that I, a proper government official of the White House of the great Republic, will resort to bribery?” He grabs the plastic cutlery from the takeout counter, laying them over the packet of salad and bowl of soup he’s carting back to his office.

“Nothing of the sort happened.”

“Huh,” Jess says, taking a bite out of the stolen roll. “So why’re you looking like someone set your precious model plane on fire?”

Poe sighs as they turn down the corridor back to the West Wing. “...He has my last name.”

“You got married already? I mean I know you can file the paperwork at the office down the corridor, but even that’s fast-”

“No, Jessika! I mean, he, it’s a coincidence-”

Jess just nods slowly, an utterly unconvinced look in her eyes and she takes another bite out of the roll.

“-ok, so it’s not a coincidence,” Poe corrects, turning around to back into the door to open it for both him and Jess. “It uh, turns out he really admired...uh...me, so he changed his last name to well...Dameron.”

_“”Wow.”_

“Yeah, I know.”

They walk on in silence till they reach the desks. Jess puts down her packet lunch on her desk and then turns back to Poe as he continues pass. 

“At least he has a better naming sense than you.”

“Okay now what’s that supposed to mean-”

“Who even names their phone? _BB-8_?”

“You’re officially not getting your promotion!” Poe yells back and pulls opens the door to his office only to give a loud yelp and stagger back.

"I nearly did believe the pigeon thing for half a second, you know," is all Hux says.

* * *

“I nearly spilt my soup,” Poe complains as he closes the door behind him and moves over to kick Hux out of his chair. He sets down his lunch on the desk and stares pointedly at Hux who is hovering by the side, the long dark coat that he’s always in making him look like some terrifying spectral of ginger haired vengeance.

“I need a reassignment.”

Poe folds his arm and scowls. “Hux, I’m Deputy Chief of Staff of the _White House,_ not the secret service-”

“Yes, but you’re Snap’s _buddy.”_ Hux spits out. _“_ Can’t you do something about this?”

“I _refuse_ to be stuck with Kylo Re- great, now I’m using that stupid singer name he made up too!” Hux all but yells, throwing his hands up in exasperation as he begins storming up and down the length of Poe’s office.

“Do you know what I have to go through? He listens to nothing but Dark Sith and Darth Vader the entire day and if I have to hear one more line of “Bring me over to the dark side” or “Save me from the light” or that stupid song he has with his emo First Order band I will blow up the nearest .. _.something!_ ”

Poe kinds of sympathises. A little.

“Alright, I’ll see what I can do,” He says finally and starts to steer Hux to the door. “now get the hell out of my office.”

“By the way, nice calendar," Hux gestures to the wall, smirks and then exits his office.

Poe just _stares_ at it, at the October cover which has him bent over the tail of his X-Wing with a rag in one hand and his other tangled up in the drenched strands of his hair while the water beads down his jaw and he's stripped down to the thin white undershirt of his pilot suit that is not only riding up his waist but is also completely soaked through, suit nearly sliding off his hips...

_“Jessika!”_

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> Frankly it's a miracle how the Republic is still operational at all.
> 
> This is in no way accurate to actual politics seeing as I am neither American nor have any real knowledge of how a western liberal democracy even works in the first place.
> 
> This will probably have a Kylux Continuation with President's Son Kylo Ren and Exasperated Done with your Shit Ben Solo Secret Service Hux if anyone is interested in this deranged AU at all.  
> Also more Stormpilot shenanigans late at night in the office.
> 
> On a more important note, I need that calendar of Poe.
> 
> I am also on [tumblr!](http://secondarysushicorps.tumblr.com)


End file.
